The Ten-Year Gap
by unebellecatastrophe
Summary: There were exactly three things I never expected: to be subjected to a marriage edict under the instruction of the ministry of magic, to not only be forced into marriage but forced into it with Draco Malfoy, and in the ten years that followed to fall out of a shattered love, and to fall irrevocably in an all-consuming love, simultaneously.
1. Something Wicked This Way Comes

The Ten-Year Gap

I own nothing but the plot.

Chapter One: Something Wicked This Way Comes

August 19, 2000

There's a certain kind of happiness that's frightening; the kind that can only beget terrible pain. It's the kind of happiness that leaves you so open you get hit with badness in the form of a brick wall. But I blinded myself. The war had ended, Harry had survived, and Ron loved me. Those were the only things I concerned myself with. There were many things others called me but stupid was not one of them. I was Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age. But I stood there that summer morning dumbfounded, in the backyard of the burrow, holding that damning piece of paper. My death sentence was hand written, artfully on thick expensive cream parchment. My pulse began to race; I started sweating. The humidity of August choked me. The scene before me of Harry, Ginny, and Ron playing quidditch against George, Bill, and Charlie was like a knife to the chest. It was a scene that would never really occur in the same way again. I would never be a part of the unit, the lover admiring from below.

I guess he could tell, even far up in the air, that something was wrong with me. Ron stood in front of me, sweating and beautiful; everything inside me hurt just looking at him then. I'd waited so long for him to get it, to love me back. And after only three months we were being ripped apart. I wasn't usually selfish or elitist, but I was a war hero; didn't that merit something? I fought for equality of status and here in my hand was the great equalizer mandated by the minister of magic himself. Just this once I wanted to reap a reward. There would be no brood of red haired children for me, no growing old together. Ron leaned down and kissed me but I couldn't return it.

"Hermione," he whispered, warm hand pressed to the side of my face. Silently I handed him the letter. His confused blue eyes shifted quickly over the looped letters eventually turning them a dark blue filled with unwanted knowledge. His lips pulled into a tight line, his freckled face turned to stone.

"We have less than forty-eight hours," I whimpered—I never whimpered. But I did then, like a child.

"We can fight this," he pleaded in an already half defeated tone.

"Not this time Ron," I shifted on my feet as the others descended on their brooms in the peach glow of the evening, blurred around the edges by the tears I pushed back. I would NOT cry in front of Ron.

"Check the kitchen table," my voice was flat. Ron hesitated before stalking inside, followed by Harry and a train of freaked out Weasleys. I stood there for just a minute observing the perfectly kept garden, the clear sky, the quiet. There was no evidence of the trauma that had been inflicted mere minutes ago; no broken glass, no blood, no fractured pieces of Earth or battered bodies. I could no longer hold it; the piece of parchment felt like fire in my hand. It floated to the ground so gracefully, an elegant grenade.

_Miss Hermione Granger,_

_It is with great responsibility to the new era of the wizarding community that I inform you of a new Ministry policy effective immediately. Refusal to comply with this policy will result in immediate imprisonment within Azkaban Prison. The edict will affect all wizards/witches between the ages of 17-27. As there is still unrest within the wizarding community post the Second War, the Ministry has found what is the only plausible solution: a marriage edict. Your partner has been chosen and will appear at the bottom of the parchment once the edict has been read in its entirety. _

_Forty-eight hours from the time you finish reading the edict, you should have signed a betrothal contract with your chosen partner. _

_One week from the time the contract is sealed, there must be a wedding ceremony performed by a licensed minister/justice. _

_One month from the date of the wedding ceremony, you will be expected to have conceived a child barring any extenuating circumstances, i.e. fertility complications._

_In the next five years you must produce a second child. _

_In ten years, if you have followed all the previous protocols, the marriage can be absolved and you are free to be with whomever you choose; however, there can be no adultery or abuse of you partner to qualify. _

_Your partner has been chosen based on blood status and compatibility through a magical logarithm. Thus, there is no better match for you magically than the one the Ministry has chosen for you. _

_**Draco Lucius Malfoy**_

Ron came outside and stood next to me. He handed me his paper: Penelope Clearwater. She was beautiful in school, quiet but had a quick wit. She had long wheat blonde hair with fair skin and deep brown eyes. She had a slow smile and a relaxed air about her. I was immediately jealous. Jealous of her beauty and jealous that Ron had been given someone benign while I'd been chained to my enemy. Harry and Ginny emerged from the burrow holding hands, looking guilty. I violently hated them in that moment. Ginny reached for my abandoned letter on the grass.

"Hermione," Ginny whispered full of pity and I just couldn't bear to hear it.

"I need a moment," it was almost a scream. I laced my fingers through Ron's and pulled him into the house, up the stairs, and into his childhood bedroom. "Kiss me."

"Hermione, we should talk," he said, his eyes downcast.

"Please," I never begged. "Do you love me?"

"Of course I do, " his voice was hoarse.

"Kiss me Ron." And he did. It was kind of sloppy but pressured. It was Ron and I clung to him. He pulled me into his arms and I got as close as I could. I needed to memorize the way he smelled, like clean laundry and outside and mint toothpaste. I needed to memorize the way his lips fit on mine and the way my small body fit against his large one.

"I'm not going to be able to give you up Hermione," he mumbled into my forehead.

"You have to," my voice cracked, "for the next ten years."

"Ten years from today," he paused to kiss me again. One of those kisses that kind of pulls the energy from your body, and leaves you incapable of breathing. "I'm coming for you."

I sat in my apartment in muggle London that night in black pajama pants and a forest green shirt of Ron's that he'd left behind. There was a hole in the sleeve near the wrist. My apartment wasn't very large; I didn't require much room, and I wasn't sure I'd ever get used to spending vast amounts of money. The sofa I sat on was a worn in oatmeal colored number across from an oversized chair the color of steel. I'd managed to get hardwood flooring in the apartment. The walls were the off-white color they were when I moved in four months ago.

George had been given to Pansy Parkinson, Ron to Penelope, Harry to Ginny, and I to a reformed death eater. My life was warped, and the only certainty left was in my healer training orientation Monday morning. I knew very little about Draco Malfoy really. He'd been a disgustingly obnoxious prat in school and fought on the wrong side of the war, supposedly to protect his mother. Harry took the stand for him. Malfoy was a slimy little git but not a git that deserved Azkaban. He'd evaporated from the world while his icy mother stayed locked away in Malfoy Manor. In ten minutes he was due at my apartment door. The moment I'd stumbled into my apartment earlier that evening a black owl had been waiting for me with a message from Malfoy. It was vague but concise, exactly six words:

**I will be there at eleven. **

To be honest I was pissed; I'd seen no other way to distract myself than to sit in a pub and drink myself silly. So I sat there waiting for that knock on my door drunk and fuming instead of the depressed witch I'd been earlier.

And then came the knock.

I unsteadily walked to open the door, and it was definitely Draco Malfoy on the other side.

"Are you going to bleeding stare at me all day or let me in?" I made no motion to move. He swept past me and into my apartment.

"Granger, are you arseholed?" Eyes wide, he glared at me.

"Absolutely. I'm surprised you're not," I threw back. He smirked but it held no malice, not like it used to. He sat down on my sofa looking unbelievably out of place in his expensive black robes and black dragon skin dress shoes. His features were still very aristocratic, his lips were a little fuller than I remembered, and his platinum hair was cropped close to his head, which suited him much better than that slicked back atrocity.

"I have the paper work," he drawled.

"I thought we had to sign it at the ministry," I scowled. Everything was being rushed.

"Who am I Granger?" I rolled my eyes very dramatically so he knew just how ridiculous I thought he was. My mind was fuzzy. Exactly. He was a Malfoy.

"Malfoy how do your parents feel about you marrying a Mudblood," I asked bitterly. He flinched just a little.

"Father's dead, and thus of no concern. Mother has never really held with those beliefs." He spoke so bluntly I was taken aback. "Well you nosey bint, what about your parents?"

"They're in Australia and happy. I altered their memories before the war. They have no idea they have a daughter," I murmured as if I were talking to someone who cared. He cleared his throat.

"Right then. The paperwork." He tossed the thin packet on top of my scuffed coffee table.

"Let's get this over with. I can't look at your face much longer," I spat. I was angry with myself for sharing about my parents, and angry at him for sharing about his.

"Granger," his voice was suddenly made of glass. "My children better not have red hair; I'm warning you."

"Fuck you." I swore vehemently. I never swore.

"Let's not pretend like you and Weasley weren't fucking like rabbits the last few months. I know you think you love him and all that rot. I think you're barmy and intolerably uptight, but I've never thought you were stupid. So I'm warning you Granger, not to make a fool out of you and me." I stood up then, towered over his sitting form, teeth gritted together.

"If you think for one minute that this contract means you have any control what so ever over my actions think again. I'll comply with the Marriage Edict so that ten years from today I can be with a man I love and who loves me. Anything I do until then is just to pass the time in this prison sentence."

"Despite all that rambling, I assume you understood my general sentiment Granger. It's a basic betrothal contract that is implemented before a wedding ceremony." He paused. "It must be sealed with a kiss after the signatures."

"Oh for Merlin's sake. I really don't want to kiss you. Especially right now," I seethed. But then I saw it in flashes, Penelope kissing Ron, her perfectly bowed lips against his, and I felt sick at my stomach.

I walked in an uneven line to my desk and grabbed a quill and inkpot. I plopped down next to Malfoy and slid the ink and quill to him across the coffee table.

"It looks like a secondhand store in here Granger."

"It's homey," I snapped. "Sign the papers." He smirked that grating smirk again as he signed in neat script on the line under his printed name. I snatched the quill from his hand, dipped it in the inkwell, and signed quickly under my name. The gravity of everything hit me then; I could feel my face fall. I turned towards him to seal the contract and his pointy face softened.

"I'll be quick," He muttered. I couldn't breathe as my former enemy's lips loomed closer. And then they were there, cool and smooth against mine for a few seconds. He pulled back just enough for me to see the contract glow gold, sealed. My heart sped up as I surged forward and crushed my lips to his surprised mouth. I could taste the firewhiskey on his lips; so he HAD been drinking. I swung my left leg over him and straddled his lap. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers pale and slim. They reminded me of what finesse looked like. I broke our lips apart and kissed my way down his neck until I found his pulse point. I bit it, grinding my hips forward at the same time. The noise he let out shattered whatever haze I was in; it was some mixture of a moan and a growl. I was off him like a shot. Again I could barely breathe.

"Oh my god." I panted, more to myself than to him. His hair was skewed from where my hands had been. I felt sobered, standing there looking at a flushed, disheveled Malfoy with swollen lips. I'd done it. I'd attacked him. I groaned, putting my head in my hands.

"Granger." I looked up at him; his tone was awed, his eyes dark with something, and his mouth grinning.

"Get. Out," I told him, finger shaking as I pointed at the door.

"Worried Granger?" His snarky tone set my teeth on edge.

"Out." I stomped like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

"See you soon." He apparated with a smirk and a crack. I could feel the panic humming through my skin. I ran to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. My hair was standing practically on end; I looked like Medusa. My cheeks were red, my own lips swollen. I looked at this Hermione and hated her. I sunk to the cracked black and white tile flooring, angry, confused, and sad. I missed Ron. I missed him in a way that amputees miss a limb. But kissing Malfoy felt like putting my finger in an electrical socket. And for a moment earlier he was kind. My plans were disintegrating, and I was a mess of hair and tears on the bathroom floor.

I'd gotten somewhat over my jealousy-fueled contempt for Ginny. Two days post my stunning bathroom break down, I found myself in a high-end robe shop in West London. Everything looked delicate and fragile; wisps of lace and tulle were everywhere. The walls were a soft gold and the rail thin shop owner had kind eyes edged in crazy.

"What a pleasure to host such exemplary young women. Can I offer you champagne while you peruse?"

"Yes, thank you," I breathed a sigh of relief at something to take the edge off just a little bit.

Today would be almost as hard as marrying Draco Malfoy. From the time I was just a little girl I'd imagined the same perfect wedding. From the one of a kind dress, to the magnificent outdoor canopy ceremony, to my father walking me down the aisle. For Ginny this was a perfect moment, but I felt like I was suffocating in pools of silk. I wanted to sulk, but I restrained myself for Ginny's sake. My ceremony was in four days, Ginny's in six, and Ron's in eight; a week of weddings. I imagined Malfoy picking out robes, completely metrosexual and consulting his best man Blaise whom I'd spoken all of three words to. Ginny tried on like fifteen million dresses: pastry type ones, trumpet styled ones, classic a-lines, and trendy ones. Just as I was contemplating jumping from the top of the boutique, Ginny emerged from the platform, beatific smile on her face, to stand in the middle of the mirrors. She was stunning. Her vibrant red hair shown even brighter against the ivory of the dress. It was form fitting, covered entirely in lace. The dress was high-necked in the front and dipped low in the back. It hugged her body close until just above her ankles where it flared out a bit. In short it was THE dress. I tried not to tear up like a stupid little girl but if someone had asked me six months ago if I would be trying on wedding dresses and drinking champagne, I would have laughed bitterly and borderline hysterically.

"Yes," I smiled.

"Yes," Ginny repeated.

I did it for me, the dress thing. I felt like after everything, I deserved something perfect and pure, something that couldn't really be taken from me or decided for me. I stood in front of the floor length gilt mirror and admired it. The dress was kind of an antique white with a sweet heart neckline and a wispy layer of lace for cap sleeves. Delicate pearls outlined the bodice down to the one-inch thick satin band at my navel. From the band there were six-inch panels of lace arranged to look like the dips of an umbrella. The rest was made of floating chiffon. The dress was made to fit close to the body and had none of that girly taffeta under it. It fit me like a dream; clichéd to say but undoubtedly true. As I walked down the aisle, a vintage diamond and platinum headband framed the hair that had been beaten into submission by Ginny to form a smooth French twist. It was a gift from Malfoy, apparently an old tradition of the Malfoy family to pass it down, from bride to bride. Ginny was two steps ahead of me in a lavender dress made of chiffon that fell to her feet on the silk white runner beneath me; my feet were sheathed in espadrilles covered in pearls.

There wasn't much to plan, other than to book the place. I only needed twenty white folding chairs to put in even numbers on either side of the center aisle. Sheer lavender ribbons were tied around the back of each chair. There were no embossed invitations, no daylong celebration while I drank mimosas with my bridesmaids and giggled about lascivious wedding night scenarios. My parents weren't here. My dress was the only piece I'd been able to keep of my perfect childhood vision of my wedding.

There were only fifteen people at my wedding ceremony. Mrs. Malfoy did not leave the shield of Malfoy Manor to attend her only son's ceremony. My parents were happily unaware as I stepped closer and closer to a Minister of Marriage. Luna and Ginny were my bridesmaids where as Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott stood up for Malfoy. Harry, Ron, Penelope, and the rest of the Weasleys were in attendance. They were my second family. Molly wept silently in the back for all the wrong reasons. The emptiness to the left of my body was bigger than I'd imagined it would be. I could barely discern the music that was played as I continued my journey to the end of the white satin. I carried violet orchids, my mother's favorite.

When I reached him he looked very serious in his impeccably tailored black dress robes. His eyes a kind of grey that only came before the worse storms held me there, in front of him unable to move. The words I was instructed to say barely translated in my head before I mumbled them back. Malfoy took my left hand and slid an elegant but large sized diamond on my ring finger. Ginny handed me a platinum band that matched mine, and I placed it on Malfoy's finger mechanically. This was it, marriage. My mind began to race with thoughts I had tried to subdue for days. I would never be able to be with Ron later. Not really. We would both have two children by other people. I would forever be bonded to Malfoy through the life we would bring in together. This would be my life now, and I needed to try or I'd die a bitter woman full of regret. So when it was over I barely caught the, 'seal with a kiss', before Malfoy's lips were once again on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pushed close. I imagined it was real, the kind of real that mattered and kissed him like someone in love. When I pulled away shock was painted on everyone's face, most noticeably Malfoy's. His lips parted and tainted by my blood red lipstick looked like a gash in the middle of his face. So I did what any sane person would do, I took my bouquet back from Ginny, linked my arm through Malfoy's and apparated.


	2. So Here We Are

The Ten Year-Gap

Chapter Two: So Here We Are

I found myself standing in my apartment in my wedding dress, arm through Malfoy's, in silence. The realization, kissing Malfoy, all of it made me nauseous. I pulled away from Malfoy, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Granger I—" Malfoy took a step towards me. I cut him off.

"You can't really call me that anymore," I smiled weakly. He sat down heavily on my sofa, loosening his tie.

"Right you are, per usual." I could find no hint of a smirk on his face. I collapsed down beside him, the chiffon of my dress covering us both.

"Can you just give me today? I know you think I'm insufferable—"

"Right again," he smirked then and I frowned hitting him with a lumpy throw cushion.

"As I was saying, can you give me today? Can you hold back the insults and most of the smirking, and do something with me?"

"Ok," he muttered, turning to face me.

"When I was little, I had this idea of how my wedding would be. I mean I'd always assumed my husband would love me. But I had this image of myself on my wedding day being free. The kind of free that most people don't associate with Hermione Granger. Albeit it I was all of seven, but even then I was different."

"Please try to get to the point," he said tightly, looking anywhere but at my face.

"Water balloons," I smiled.

"What the hell is a water balloon?" His face was confusion and a tinge of fear. I liked that I could still scare him a little bit.

"Come on," I said as I grabbed his hand and pulled him through my apartment door. I almost tripped to my death several times as we took the stairs. Out on the sidewalk, it was one of those rare days of sunshine in London. I stood there for a minute,face turned toward the sun, my right hand in Malfoy's.

"You should know, you really do look quite beautiful," he choked out as if it pained him.

"Thank you," I whispered before yanking him down the sidewalk towards the pharmacy on the corner.

The look on the cashier's face when Malfoy and I stepped into the pharmacy in our wedding clothes was priceless. For once I wasn't thinking about all the repercussions of my actions. I didn't want to think about whom I left behind after the ceremony and how they felt about what I'd just done. I snaked through aisle after aisle until I found them. Balloons. I grabbed all the packages they had and raced to the cashier. I smiled and the older man behind the counter raised a grey eyebrow. When I looked over at Malfoy he had this look on his face of discovery.

"There's a park around the corner," I told him as we exited the pharmacy.

I was soaked. I perched quietly behind a tree, my heart beating rapidly as I waited for the opportune moment to strike. It had been a fierce battle with a worthy opponent. I took a step to the left and then I was hit. I could feel the liquid seep through the fabric of my dress. Clutching my hand to my chest, I sunk to the ground.

"I've been hit!"

"All's fair in love and war," he snickered. Draco Malfoy was a sight to behold. His white blonde hair was plastered to the top of his forehead, his skin was flushed, and his face determined. His robes were drenched sticking to him in odd places, and he'd somehow lost his shoes, standing before me barefoot. Bits of grass covered his pale feet. He offered me his hand and I stood, my dress significantly heavier than it had been two hours before. He reached up and pulled a piece of balloon from my hair, which had expanded exponentially around my hairpiece.

Standing behind a tree to shield ourselves from the muggles, we apparated back to my apartment. We were silent, so quiet you could hear the dripping of water from our clothes to the floor. Separately, we began drying ourselves with spells and I mended the few snags in my dress. I wanted to preserve it. For what, I couldn't wrap my mind around. Not at that moment.

"We're going to need to buy a house," I said. Even with it's scuffed appearance I would miss my apartment, miss the independence I had here. "I'm not partial to a particular part of England but we will have to live in the muggle parts of it. That I won't compromise on. It's apart of me; you have never let me forget it, not that I want to."

"OK."

"Ok," I said, the question mark obvious in my voice hanging between us.

"OK."

"I'm glad you understand. I've got orientation in the morning and then we'll have to attend Ginny's wedding on Tuesday. It starts at seven in the evening."

"We're going to have to start trying," he said softly, not meeting my eyes.

"I know. Just give me some time."

Medicine. It is the altar on which we throw our bodies to be healed, the process we have not always understood, but trusted to cure our sicknesses. I knew the first moment I'd seen the infirmary at Hogwarts that being a healer was what I was born to be. I am proud of Harry, Ron, and Ginny for training to become Aurors; I think they will be able to do a lot of good. I've been pressured for months to become an Auror, and I know that I could do it. Just knowing you can do something, is not in fact reason enough to do it. (something Ronald never understood). The concepts and processes of healing challenged me.

Ever the student, I was twenty minutes early to orientation, muggle pen and small notebook ready (a much more efficient way to take notes on the move). There were only four women in a group of forty. I knew then that I'd have to work twice as hard, be twice as good. Was it fair? Of course not, but I'd stopped hoping for life to be fair the moment Cedric Diggory died. An hour past, and in that hour I was instructed on the mechanics of St. Mungo's, and the numerous different wards within. Tours were given. In the next year I would be on rotation for three weeks at a time within a different ward. I would be matched with a group of three other students to be on service under a chief healer. Already I was excited, especially when a list of required reading materials was given to each student to be read by the next Monday, our first day on a chief healer's service. I looked through all of my materials and found I would be working with chief healer Griselda Hawthorne, the only female chief healer throughout the entire infirmary.

As I settled the veil over Ginny's face, I realized how different today would be from my own wedding ceremony. I'd sent Ginny an owl yesterday to explain, but she'd barely read it. The stress, she said, was understandable; and of course I didn't know how to feel. But Ron, he'd been a little chilly with me, something I'd hoped to remedy today. I adjusted my one shouldered, aqua satin dress and stepped into gold ballet flats. Lining up behind Luna, I heard Ginny take a deep breath behind me. Walking down the aisle as a non-bride was kind of trippy, especially as I neared Harry. It was the perfect ceremony. His eyes shown the way a groom's eyes are supposed to and Ginny cried a little when she repeated her vows. The kiss to seal it was short but obviously full of caring.

When I sat down beside Draco after the ceremony, I took a long drink of the wine in front of me. It would be a beautiful thing when the weddings were over. It was hard for me to take. Penelope looked stunning in an emerald green silk dress that flared over her hips. The way Ron guided her as they walked towards me with his hand on the small of her back had me screaming inside.

"Hermione," he said rather stiffly.

"Ronald," I said back as stiffly as I could manage. "Could I speak with you for a moment?"

"Sure," his voice said but his eyes didn't look it. He followed me out to the garden behind the hall the held the reception. I closed my eyes for a moment wondering how everything had gotten so messed up. I'd been married to Draco Malfoy for all of two days, in which we said the required words for the ceremony and not much else. Tomorrow we were looking for a house, in which we would live together, eventually have sex in together, and raise children in together. And here was the boy I'd loved for the last seven years standing in front of me, set to marry someone else in just two days.

"Hermione, what is it you wanted to talk about," he asked, not unkindly, just distant. As if we were acquaintances or strangers. In four short days we'd become strangers. His hair was a little too long and a little unkempt. Things I no longer had a right to fix.

"Ron is this going to be us now? Are we going to say the polite hello if we see each other in Diagon Alley or have dinner with Harry and Ginny? We're not even going to be friends anymore?" It sounded impossible even as I said the words.

"It's too hard. Seeing you with him. Watching you kiss him even at the wedding ceremony felt like losing you. Thinking about you having a child with him keeps me up at night. If I don't distance myself, if I don't let you go for right now, I'll go crazy." He was crying then, stoically as men do. "Don't you understand?"

"I do Ron," I cried too. "But you're a piece of me, a huge piece of me. And without that piece I wonder if I'm going to fall apart." He pressed his lips to my forehead, a friendly kiss that could never be construed as cheating.

"You're so much stronger than you realize," he said as he walked away from me and towards his future, towards Penelope Clearwater.

Calendars became a fixture in my life. In bright red pen I had marked all of the important dates. I had to comply, to endure what was necessary for the next ten years and I would not make a mistake that would destroy the freedom the started after. I'd crossed off all of the days that had passed. I didn't attend Ron's wedding ceremony. Not only did I not feel like I could bear it, but he'd expressly written to me informing me I was no longer invited. I'd been working hard on reading all of my required materials, and Malfoy was incredibly busy with his internship under a massive potions corporation. We'd let four days slip by before buying a house. As I waited for him to arrive at my apartment, I counted the days; twenty-three days were all we had. When he arrived I once again lead him down the stairs and to my car parked a little ways up the street. I opened the passenger door and then slid into the driver's side.

"You expect me to get in that death trap," Draco sneered.

"Yes, I do. Eventually I expect you to learn how to drive one," I smiled brightly which seemed to only irritate him more.

"If you think I'm getting in that thing you've gone round the bend." I rolled my eyes. Almost anytime he spoke, I found myself rolling my eyes.

"Fine, but this car situation is not going to disappear."

I had found a realtor in the wizarding community who specialized in finding muggles homes. A squib who worked in the muggle community was her connection in finding suitable properties. We didn't see a bunch of different houses as many people do. The first home was perfect. It was twenty minutes outside of London on a quiet street near a park. It was built during the early part of the 19th century and made of brick. It was a two-story home with a grand foyer. To the left of the entrance were the stairs. The home still had its original hardwood flooring, which I absolutely adored. The foyer narrowed into a hallway that opened up into an updated kitchen. A breakfast nook sat off to the right. The family room was beautifully done in cream and sage and gold. A sliding door led to a moderately sized garden. Upstairs was a master bedroom with en suite bathroom. The bathroom had double sinks, with an old-fashioned claw foot porcelain tub. There were three other bedrooms upstairs as well as another full bathroom. The house was perfect.

"I want to put an offer in," I told Draco.

"Do what you want," he said dismissively. It hurt. I knew it would be hard being married to him but I wasn't prepared for how alone I felt in everything.

We signed the papers that day.

"Draco are you going to get your lazy bum up and help me," I asked blowing hair that had escaped from my bun out of my face.

"I'm not sure why you don't remember to use your wand," he huffed. My cheeks flushed red. I would always have a tendency to do things without magic first, at least the things I'd grown up doing. Moving in anywhere was always awful. It took forever to get everything in just the right place. I set down the boxes that had arrived from Ikea, a shop I'd always enjoyed. I pulled my knees to my chest. The sun set as I sat on the hardwood floor in exactly the same position as Draco moved about the house getting various papers in order for his work after the weekend. A light clicked on to my left, and there he was standing in front of me.

"I'm sorry. I know it's hard to believe, but I really am. It's a hard situation but Hermione we've got twenty-one days." It was the first time he'd called me Hermione. Since we'd gotten married he'd just talk in my general direction; I guess it was the first time it felt like he was talking to me instead of at me. I nodded my head. I mentally took stock of my appearance. My wildly curly hair was piled on top of my head in a bun, I was sticky from moving, and I wore a pair of dark wash overalls that my mother hated with a black tank top underneath. There was absolutely no denying that Draco was attractive, actually ridiculously attractive, but that didn't mean I wanted to have his children.

As I climbed the stairs, I ran my hand over the smooth wooden railing. I felt Draco behind me. When I heard the door to the bedroom, _our_ bedroom, shut I stopped. Taking a deep breath, I waited.

"Are you, I mean, have you," he stumbled. I took a second to remember the exact moment Draco Malfoy sputtered over his words. I turned to face him.

"I'm not a virgin." The relief rolling off of him was tangible. "Are you?"

"Oh come off it Hermione." I shrugged my shoulders. "No, I'm not. Happy?"

"Not really," I let out with more force and truth than I intended to. It was a strange thing to see, Draco pulling into himself. But then his face kind of twisted. I took a step back.

"What else can I do? Hmm Hermione? Can you, oh brilliant one, tell me what I can possibly do to keep you from looking at me like I'm something that belongs on the bottom of your shoe? You think I want to be here? You think I was thrilled? I lost things too Hermione. Did you ask? Do you care? I'm trying. Do you know how hard it is for me not to say something biting every time you let out some selfish remark? So tell me St. Hermione, what the fuck can the death eater do to appease you?" He was breathing hard, chest rising and falling. I hated him. I hated him for calling me selfish, for painting a version of myself that I knew was true but didn't want to see. I snapped.

"Boo freaking hoo Draco. Cry to me about what you've lost. What have you lost? Have you lost your best friend? Have you lost the control over your body for nine months at a time to have a baby with someone? Don't you dare act like it's worse for you." He advanced so quickly I didn't comprehend it fully until my back was pressed flat against the wall. His body pressed so tight against mine I could feel his breath on my neck.

"You know nothing. For once accept that you know nothing." He punctuated by crushing his body against mine so tightly it hurt. I gasped. "Scared? Good you should be." His voice was ominous.

"I am NOT afraid of you," I spat, refusing to break eye contact. His movements were callous and violent as he ripped my overalls down my body. He left me in a black tank and plain white cotton underwear. I was practically thrown on the bed I'd pieced together just hours ago. Draco threw his shirt off over his head and rid himself of his pants. He loomed over me, a little over six feet tall, and lean muscled. Anger roared through me; I felt like an animal. He got on top of me and yanked off my underwear. Roughly he pushed up my bra and tank all at once. I was exposed in a way I'd never been with Ron. He had always treated me as if I were spun from glass. I didn't like how turned on I felt as Draco's eyes dilated looking at my naked form. He didn't kiss me, his hands didn't caress me; his hands didn't touch me other than to anchor my hips as he thrust savagely into me.

I fought hard not to make a sound but I kept my eyes on his. With every thrust of his pelvis my entire body would jerk. It was supposed to hurt but it didn't. I was turned on the moment he'd ground me into the wall and my body was humming with a different kind of satisfaction. Involuntarily my hips strained to meet his, my legs wrapped around his waist to get me closer. A deep, throaty moan escaped me and it was like I broke through a dam. I couldn't keep quiet.

"Mmm Draco," slipped from between my lips and his eyes turned to liquid coal. He started doing something with his hips that had me almost begging. And then I crashed. I crashed so hard my mind went blank. I barely registered it when he rolled off of me.

"Fuck," Draco swore. "Fuck Hermione."

"mmm," was all I could manage.

I sat in the loo on my first day of service. I'd been thirty minutes early. I wanted to break something, scream until my throat was raw. I wanted to bang my fists against the walls of this stall until they were bloody and bruised because when I looked down it was inescapable. A harsh red colored stain marred my underwear. I was not pregnant. And worse than that, I had to tell Draco.

We had nineteen days.


	3. Absolute

The Ten-Year Gap

Chapter Three: We Build Then We Break

I was shaken; I was a kind of disoriented I didn't imagine I could be. Looking at myself in the mirror, I squared my shoulders and crammed everything I felt into a fortified box. This woman in the mirror looked tired, confused. I'd never looked so old and so young in the same moment. I turned away from my image in the glass and headed back to the trauma ward where I would be for the first three weeks.

Healer Hawthorne stood at an imposing height, her hair slicked into a tight grey bun at the nape of her neck. Black, oval, horn-rimmed glasses shielded her eyes. There were three other students—all men, who looked at me smugly, triumphantly as if they had already won something just by being a man. The one immediately to my right was slightly over weight, short statured with pasty white skin, and greasy black hair. He reminded me of a young squat version of Severus Snape. Next to Snape jr. was a lean, tall rakishly handsome man who had to be closing in on thirty. He had a strange copper colored hair with deep blue eyes, and a smirk on his lips that haltingly reminded me of Draco. Lastly we had an equally as tall man close to my age, the only one whose face bore me no ill will openly. His visible quietness was akin to Harry and I felt then that he would be the only one I'd be able to get along with.

"I'm Healer Griselda Hawthorne, and you will address me as Healer Hawthorne. I assume you to be Hermione Malfoy," The woman nodded in my direction.

"Yes Madame," I responded. It sounded strange together, my new name, like it didn't really fit.

"Arthur Rutherford," she said tightly at the handsome one.

"Absolutely." He smiled. I wanted to vomit.

"Walter Yates," she directed at Snape jr.

"And lastly, you must be Christopher Appleby." Shockingly she almost smiled when she looked at the quiet one.

"Yes Madame," He said softly but firmly.

"Well this is my squad then. As is implied in the word squad, I expect you to work as a unit, a team. Any fighting amongst this team that could cause endangerment to any patients will NOT be tolerated. Is this understood?" We all nodded in accord. "Excellent. For the next three weeks we will be in the Trauma Ward. This is my specialty so I will have the most knowledge to share with you here; however, this in no way means that I will not have a wealth of knowledge in the other wards. This is a learn as you go kind of process. If you haven't read at the least the chapters I assigned to you a week ago, today will likely be your last in this training program. There is no room for slacking. You are team Gold. Anytime this is paged, you respond immediately. Are we clear? When are you to respond?"

"Immediately," we chorused.

"You do nothing without the instruction of myself or other fully trained medical staff—" She was cut off by a three second tone that sounded like a dying banshee.

"TEAM GOLD REPORT TO TRAUMA ROOM 2. TEAM GOLD REPORT TO TRAUMA ROOM 2."

Without a word she turned on her heel and began running at quite a pace towards the trauma room 2. We dashed after her; my short white student coat flapped behind me. The vision in front of me as we stopped behind Healer Hawthorne was familiar. The patient was sweaty and pale, male, and around mid-thirties. He had blood leaking from several large gashes across his body, and his limbs were bound by a body bind curse. He was frozen, unable to move but able to feel everything. Emergency Magical Transport stood there, I guess waiting to give some kind of report.

"Well what are you waiting for?" Healer Hawthorne screamed at the man in the EMT emblazoned navy work robes.

"Thirty-five year old male found by a jogger this morning, status post assault. Patient has sustained several injuries. Patient has been diaphoretic and his temp has dropped from being outside, possibly all night. He has three fairly large lacerations to his abdomen, bruising to his back, and we are currently unaware of any head injuries or LOC. We were unable to lift the body bind curse placed on the patient. Intel suspects it could be time release. Patient's name is Henry Withers. Line placed on site." What was LOC? A time-release body bind? I had every word copied in my notebook. It was strange, the wards in St. Mungo's. They were half way between an old-school apothecary and a muggle hospital. He was immediately hooked up to a muggle heart monitor and an EKG was performed.

"Team Gold, this will be the case you will always remember. You always remember your first. In the wizarding world we have yet to become more advanced than some muggle technologies. Any patient coming into the trauma section of St. Mungo's will be—"

"Immediately hooked up to a monitor to check heart rhythms, pulse, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation. An EKG will be preformed and blood will be drawn and sent to the potions lab upstairs. A quick interview will be conducted on the patient to get a clear picture of the most emergent injury."

"Very well Malfoy," Healer Hawthorne commended and I felt my heart expand and contract with pride. This was where I belonged.

When I got home he was waiting. There would be no avoiding. I couldn't because there was honestly no time for avoiding. Nineteen days loomed in my mind like they would to a prisoner on death row. I knew things could be worse, that I could be worse off, but I couldn't accept it in that moment.

"I'm sorry Hermione." It was the first time he'd spoken to me in the aftermath of what we'd done in that bedroom together. His voice was gruff. "I'm not handling things the way I should."

"I'm not either." I sat down on the couch beside him. It arrived yesterday and I loved it. The material was soft and the grey/blue tone fit both Draco and I's idea of style. "I'm sorry I never asked you." I took a deep breath and turned my body to face his. "I have to tell you something."

"Christ, are you in trouble or something?" He asked, I guess worried at the terrible look that graced my face.

"No it's not like that. I just um, I got my period this morning." Shame rolled off of me in waves. I'd pushed it away while I was at work but now it consumed me. What if I was deficient, if I couldn't do it?

"Shit," he muttered.

"Exactly," I exhaled.

"How long does that usually carry on for?"

"Carry on for," I snorted. I looked at him unable to control the laughter pouring from my stressed body.

"Nothing about this is funny." His words were stern, but seconds later his scowl cracked, and he began laughing just as hard as I was.

"How long does that carry on for," I mimicked before cracking up all over again. "God, I can't stop," I wheezed tears pouring down my face. But all of the sudden I wasn't really laughing anymore. The tears kept coming and without realizing it I'd transitioned into sobbing. My body shifted as Draco wrapped his arm around my small frame, pulling me close. It was clear he was uncomfortable but the move was tender.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do it," I cried softly.

"It could've been a number of things. It could've been me. Please don't cry." He sounded desperate. I tried to get myself together.

"Four days. Sometimes five."

"What?" His face flickered with confusion. "Oh. Ok." And that was it. He held me until we fell asleep on that couch.

It only lasted three days but it was heavy. I hated every minute of the cramping, the lower back tightness, and the bloating more than usual. But I sat there four days after our last conversation waiting for Draco to get home from his internship, leg bouncing up and down in nervous anticipation. I'd been researching, I mean what's new, but I had. And I needed to test out this idea as soon as possible. Waiting was killing me. I told myself it was because I needed this. I needed to have sex with him as a means to an end; that it had nothing to do with how he could make me feel.

Ten minutes later he apparated into the living room strangely wearing a muggle suit, a retro style: black jacket with slim black pants and a skinny black tie. All black everything. It looked like he'd popped the top two buttons of his shirt and loosened his tie before he left work. He hadn't shaved this morning. God he'd never looked so good. I felt my stomach drop at the words that were about to spew from my mouth.

"How was work," I asked him. I never asked him.

"It was work," he replied like an immature child and Jesus if I still didn't want him.

"What exactly do you do at work?" I was stalling then. Starting to get nervous afraid instead of nervous excited.

"Bitch work. I copy ingredient lists for potions, I respond to owls, and sometimes if I'm lucky I get to be in a room when they test them," he sulked. Talking felt ok.

"I'm done with my period," I blurted. Eyes wide, he looked me up and down.

"You've been waiting for me," he smirked, loosening his tie all the way. He threw it haphazardly. I felt like his prey.

"No I have not," I said indignantly but neither one of us believed me. He was almost done unbuttoning his white oxford while I stared, mesmerized by the pale, lean muscles beneath it.

"Hermione." He arched an eyebrow at me.

"Ok, fine! I was waiting. I did some reading up on conception—"

"Of course you have," he smirked that freaking smirk again.

"Shut it for a second ferret. Like I said, I've been reading and there are certain, um, positions that are better than others." I felt my face flush red.

"Continue," he said, clearly amused. I cleared my throat. I said two words.

"From behind."

"Excuse me," He coughed a little. I pulled my shirt over my head and walked around to the side of the couch. I bent myself over it, jean clad butt high in the air. Facing the couch it was easier to be bold with my words; I didn't have to look at him.

"It's deeper," I rasped. The sound of his belt and pants hitting the floor were loud in the silence that followed my words. I could barely stand it. Suddenly I felt him lift my hips to undo the button on my jeans and slide them from my body.

"Fuck. You weren't wearing underwear all this time?"

"I forgot to do my laundry yesterday," I confessed. The want that filled his voice had me wound up.

"Now I'll always be wondering," he whispered.

"Enough talking," I growled but it turned into a gasp as he slammed into me hard. His grip on my hips was crushing. I could feel bruises forming. The force and rate he was going caused a friction that had me calling out obscenities.

"Shit Draco," I hissed. It was like a switch inside him was flipped and soon we were both shattered. I could barely push air in and out of my lungs, unable to move from my position on the couch. He was just as out of breath behind me.

"Fuck it's sexy when you lose enough control to swear." His hand came down to rest on my bum. "Where have you been hiding this fantastic arse?" I snorted and he pulled away from me. I ignored him.

"We have to do this every other day for the next week. Then I can take a test," I barely managed.

"Fine by me," I could just hear the smugness oozing through his words. "Just be bent over something when I get home. I'll find you."

"Ugh god, do you hear yourself?"

"I sure did hear you Hermione. Actually I'm sure everyone on this street did. 'Shit Draco. Don't stop'" He crowed.

"Next time I'm not making a sound," I sounded pouty, even to my own ears. "Make me something to eat," I demanded as I clothed myself.

"Excuse me," he asked snapping the button on his pants into place.

"Make me something to eat," I repeated smiling a little impishly. "I'm a little tired from all that activity." In no time at all I had a turkey sandwich in my hand and a bag of crisps.

Sometimes I spent my nights wondering. I thought of Ron impregnating Penelope Clearwater against that terrible plaid couch in his apartment, and I felt myself flinch as if I'd been hit. I started to limit myself on the time my thoughts wondered to him, to them. I'd realized a while ago that Ron and I didn't have a future anymore, not really. Ron would never be able to break up his family, it wasn't the kind of man he was. How could I not respect it?

What kind of woman was I? Would I break up my family?

Two days later he took me against the counter, then over the desk in his office, and lastly in the bed; I was on all fours. Thoughts of his body moving in mine occupied all of my free thoughts. I could barely contain myself when I got home every other day. Sometimes he'd be home early, waiting. Yesterday I'd been two hours later than my shift specified. He'd yanked me up the stairs, put me in position on the bed and essentially spanked me. I had never come so hard.

I was early to work this morning with a specific purpose. I needed to have the test done, and have it done in the potions lab upstairs. We had special rapid screenings because it was pertinent to know the pregnancy status of patients. Needles were used everyday in St. Mungo's, and I knew just where to find them and how to use them. We'd been instructed on how to do it four days ago. I muttered a cleaning spell on the skin of my inner elbow. I pulled a plastic tourniquet around my upper arm, tightening it with my teeth. I bit the plastic cap of the needle and spit it onto the floor. Slowly I slid the sharp metal point into my arm and attached a vial to the end of the tubing at the bottom of it. My blood swirled bright red down into the tube. Once it was full, I pu over the entry site and removed the needle. I taped the gauze to my arm, pulled off the tourniquet and threw it into the trashcan. I disposed of the needle in the sharps container and put my blood into a purple plastic holder. I pulled a small potion bottle from the top of a shelf to my left. The potions masters here kept a large stock of pre-made determinant serums. They kept good for two months but were often used up before then. I poured my blood into the potion knowing that in two minutes it'd change into one of two colors. Black if I wasn't and white if I was. When it turned my stomach dropped.

I was fifteen minutes early for rounds but unfortunately so was Yates. He really was a displeasing person to be around. Every time I would answer correctly or master a procedure/spell he would send a chilling glare my way.

"Been practicing on yourself Malfoy, you really that desperate?" He sneered. If that was the best he could do…

"Maybe you should follow my example Yates," I said calmly. "Your technique on that woman in trauma room 4 was lacking." He started towards me.

"Why you—"

"Hello Hermione," Appleby came to stand in front of me, blocking me off from Yates. I smiled.

I made it through the day, but I was in a daze trying to figure out what I would say to Draco, how I should phrase my words. I waited to leave St. Mungo's until I already knew he would be home. I apparated and found him waiting, hands on either side of his chin. So I said that first thing that popped into my mind, which felt a little more sexual than I'd hoped.

"Hey Daddy."

He smiled. Genuinely smiled; I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe because it was beautiful, and I couldn't stop myself from smiling back.


End file.
